


Sylvain and Dedue Get Stuck With a Horse

by Antimonicacid



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: M/M, there's a horse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-14
Updated: 2020-11-14
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:35:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27558457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Antimonicacid/pseuds/Antimonicacid
Summary: Rained out on an important mission and with no available lodging, Sylvain and Dedue are forced to spend the night in a barn. Dedue is shocked to learn that the barn houses a horse (since when did barns do that?) and Sylvain makes a valiant attempt to convince Dedue that horses are your friends. It will not eat you. Probably.
Relationships: Sylvain Jose Gautier/Dedue Molinaro
Comments: 12
Kudos: 70





	Sylvain and Dedue Get Stuck With a Horse

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this for [SydneyHorses](https://twitter.com/edelgardlesbian). He likes horses. This is also going to count as my [Dedue RarePair](https://twitter.com/DedueRarepair) contribution.

When the innkeeper tells them that there are no rooms with two beds available, Sylvain laughs.

“Are you saying we’ll have to share a bed?” He says, unconcerned by the prospect even as Dedue sighs.

“We have no beds,” the innkeeper clarifies.

“Oh. It’s less funny that way.” As he talks, another crack of lightning illuminates the small lobby, immediately followed by booming thunder.

It’s a little bit funny.

Dedue grimaces as he shifts his weight and feels pools of water slosh in his boots. “I do not mean to be a burden, but we are traveling on royal orders from the king. Is there any possible way to accommodate us?”

“Yeah,” Sylvain nods along. “I mean, we can sleep in the lobby. The kitchen. Fuck even a toasty shed?”

The innkeeper purses her lips. “Well…”

Ten minutes later the door to a small barn closes behind them.

“Did you have to say shed?” Dedue asks.

Sylvain shrugs and kicks a bale of hay. “To be fair, it’s not a shed.”

That’s true in most respects, but only barely. The barn they’ve been unceremoniously dumped into is hardly larger than most sheds, with only enough room for a small stall, a few tools, and some bags of feed.

Overall, they’ve slept in worse conditions.

“Hey, did you know that hay is not comfortable?” Sylvain asks while flopping onto a pile of it. He wriggles around in the straw until he seems to come to a comfortable enough position laying on his back and staring up at the barn’s ceiling. “Smells like shit,” Sylvain announces with a cheerful voice.

“That’s odd,” Dedue replies.

“Not really. It probably is shit.”

Dedue frowns and turns away. He doesn’t really know what to do with himself. He’s not enthused about the idea of sleeping on hay, but it’s not like any bedding was provided. Perhaps he could prop himself up against a wall in a sitting position and hope for an hour or two of restless sleep.

“Is anything dry?” Dedue asks as he looks around for their bundle of supplies and spare provisions.

Sylvain shrugs before jerking his chin in the direction of the sack. “Maybe. It was pretty wet out though.”

Dedue sighs and crouches down to pick through their dripping belongings. Sylvain’s right, most everything is soaked through, and he begins the process of laying each individual supply out to dry.

It’s as he’s trying to figure out the proper way to air dry moist jerky that he feels a sharp pull on his hair.

“Pardon?” He asks while pulling away to try and untangle himself from whatever has caught him. He’s unsuccessful and is jerked roughly to the side.

He’s prepared to lecture Sylvain for fooling around, but before he’s able, he hears Sylvain’s distinctive chortle several feet away. Confused, Dedue reaches up to the top of his head to try and free himself from the piece of furniture that had caught hold, but instead of finding an iron hook or loose piece of wood he touches a moist muzzle.

Horrified, Dedue pokes blind at what has grabbed hold of him and in doing so pushes his fingers up against warm, wet teeth.

He is not panicking. No, Dedue remains calm as he gingerly tries to yank away from the creature and yells. It’s no use and the animal holds fast, pulling him roughly forward and nearly making Dedue trip.

Sylvain is still laughing.

“ _Sylvain!_ ” Dedue shouts at him, a feeling of betrayal welling up in his chest as someone he thought was a comrade leaves him to _die_ from a beast’s attack.

“Hold still hold still,” Sylvain’s instructions are jolly as he walks his way.

Dedue stays motionless. Mostly.

“I said hold still,” Sylvain chastises him.

Dedue does as he’s told and stops trying to escape. He’s hunched over and forced to look at the floor as Sylvain makes soothing noises.

“Shhh, it’ll be okay,” Sylvain assures him.

“Thank you,” Dedue says.

“I was talking to the horse.”

Dedue hates this trip. He decides this now as Sylvain coaxes the horse’s mouth open and gets it to release him.

He stands up straight and takes two steps back, worried still that he may be accosted once again as soon as he ceases to pay attention. He can feel slobber dripping down the back of his head, and strands of hair pulled free from his usually neat ponytail.

“There is a horse in here,” Dedue assesses their current situation.

Sylvain nods, but doesn’t seem to really be listening as he brushes his fingers through the thick, black mane.

“I’m going to–I’m going to sleep over here,” Dedue says while backing away with his eyes locked on the horse.

“Aw, come on, he’s a nice horse,” Sylvain defends the creature.

Safe with his back against the wall, Dedue glares at Sylvain. “It tried to eat me.”

“And he’s so sorry for it. Aren’t you, boy?” Sylvain coos his question as he scratches at the base of the animal’s neck. The horse huffs in response and leans over to nibble far gentler than before at a red lock of hair. His laugh is playful when he gives a halfhearted push away, undisturbed by the horse’s curiosity and grins wide until his cheeks dimple and the freckles on his nose bunch up.

An urge to fix his appearance comes over Dedue. He runs his hand through his soiled hair and tries to collect it back into a ponytail. Before he can, however, the tie holding his hair together breaks apart in his hand.

“Lovely,” Dedue says as he resigns himself to combing out the drool coated tangles with his fingers.

“It looks nice,” Sylvain tells him. “I never see you with your hair down.”

Dedue shakes the compliment off. “It’s nothing exciting.” It really isn’t. Just another inconvenience with nothing remarkable. He drops down to the ground and leans back against the barn wall, head resting on the hard wood as he closes his eyes and pretends to be anywhere else.

“Are you really going to stay over there the whole night?” Sylvain asks.

“I’m respecting the horse’s personal space and kindly asking him to do the same for me,” Dedue replies.

“He just wants to be friends,” Sylvain insists. He strokes the horse’s muzzle. “It’s not like he’s going to hurt you.”

“He tried to _eat_ me,” Dedue reminds him. “How is that not ill intentioned?”

“He was just being curious! How else are you supposed to greet someone other than chewing their hair? I mean it’s _great_ hair.”

Dedue pulls his knees up to his chest and doesn’t respond. He doesn’t dislike animals, per say, he simply struggles to get along with them well. In his experience, the easiest solution is to stay clear of them all together.

Exasperated, Sylvain rolls his eyes. “Seriously? You’re staying all the way over there?”

“It’s not as if the barn is particularly large,” Dedue argues. “What difference does it make if I’m seven feet away rather than four?”

“Yeah, but I get lonely,” Sylvain says while pouting. A smile breaks across his face and the corners of his eyes crimps up. “Just kidding!”

Dedue suspects that he is not kidding. “It’s fine. I am just maintaining a proximity that is the most comfortable, all things considered.”

Sylvain huffs and stomps back over to the pile of hay. He’s grumpy as he falls back on it and exaggerates the distance around him with a wide gesture of his arms. “All alone, just me and my new best friend Jerimiah.”

The question is probably better left not asked, but Dedue can’t help himself. “And who is Jerimiah?”

“That stallion over there,” Sylvain points to the horse before directing his finger towards Dedue’s direction. “Because apparently _this_ stallion is afraid of horses or something and has chosen to abandon his friend.”

“Why must I continue to remind you that it tried to _eat_ me?” Dedue says.

“Horses don’t eat people!” Sylvain insists. “They’re herbivores, they can’t even even digest meat.”

“That you know of.” Dedue believes him, mostly, but the urgency that Sylvain explains this to him is a bit funny, and he can’t help but tease him.

“No, seriously,” Sylvain bounces up and down in his seat of hay like a child arguing with his homeroom teacher. “They have sensitive digestion tracts. They can’t even vomit.”

“Huh?” Dedue is actually curious. “How do you not vomit?”

Sylvain shrugs. “The muscles in their throat don't let them puke. What goes down stays down.”

“Ah,” Dedue says nodding. “Which means there’s no escape when he inevitably consumes me whole in the dead of night.”

“Jerimiah’s a herbivore!”

“For now.”

They stare at each other without blinking for a few second, trying to see who looks away first, and declares the other the victor of this truly stupid argument.

“Hmph,” Sylvain sticks his nose up in the air and crosses his arm.

“My apologies,” Dedue bows his head slightly, small strands of silver hair falling into his eyes. “I didn’t realize that Fodlan’s anti-discrimination laws included horses as a protected class.”

“Booooo,” Two thumbs down are flashed in his direction. “Boooooooo!” Sylvain heckles him.

“Well, I thought it was funny.”

Sylvain pouts. “Yeah, it was pretty funny, but I’m not happy about it.”

Dedue turns away, a bit embarrassed about the attention. “I’m not sure what you find so interesting about them,” Dedue tries to extend the smallest of olive branches.

“They’re neat,” Sylvain perks up at the invitation to talk more on the subject. His eyes grow bright and a childish grin entirely unlike his usual smirks and smiles overtakes his expression. “Did you know they can see almost completely 350 degrees around them?”

“Sylvain,” Dedue closes his eyes and takes in a deep breath to steady himself. “That is the single most horrifying thing I’ve ever heard in my life.”

“Really?”

“No, but it is up there,” Dedue clarifies.

“Does that mean you won’t think it’s cool that they have the largest eyes of any land mammal? And that they’re eight times bigger than humans?”

“Yes, I understand. They have huge eyes because they are always watching.”

“You’re being ridiculous,” Sylvain pouts.

“ _Always_.”

Running his fingers through his hair, Sylvain hums as he tries to think of something else to persuade Dedue. “Okay, okay, okay, I can think of some not terrifying horse facts.”

“Try me,” Dedue steels himself.

“Even though their eyes are huge, horses can’t see red.”

“So, he won’t care when he bleeds me dry?”

“They sleep standing up!”

“Always prepared to attack.”

“Did you know they’re social creatures? They get lonely if you leave them alone.”

“Just like wolves. They can hunt in packs.”

“Herbivores! They’re herbivores!”

Dedue clicks his tongue. “I beg to differ.”

Sylvain falls over in an exhausted heap and groans. “Horse. Horse warm. Horse nice. Their hooves are fingers.”

“Again,” Dedue shudders. “That is an absolutely horrifying fact to share. Next you’re going to tell me they can use weapons just like humans.”

“No,” Sylvain rolls onto his stomach mumbles into the hay, “but their hooves are made of keratin and that’s cool.”

Confused, Dedue furrows his eyebrows. “Keratin?”

“The same shit our hair and nails are made out of.”

“I’m going to sleep outside,” Dedue starts to stand up while Sylvain throws fistfuls of hay at him.

“Dedue! Stop being a baby,” Sylvain whines.

Dedue brushes dust off his pants and frowns. “I am not being a baby.”

“You kinda are,” Sylvain argues as he stands up and walks towards him. “Seriously, there’s nothing to worry about. I’ll show you.”

His hand is outstretched, calloused palms facing up in invitation for Dedue to grab onto. Dedue tries not to think too much about it as he takes his hand reluctantly and allows himself to be led away from safety. The hand in his is warm. Smaller than Dedue’s own, but not by much. His hold is firm and confident.

Slowly, he’s directed to reach out until he’s only a few inches away from the horse’s snout. They’re still for a second, Dedue is sure that the animal is either going to flee or attack, but then the horse leans over. He gives their hands an inquisitive sniff, something about that proves satisfactory apparently, and a moment later he dips his head down to bump into Dedue’s hand. It surprises Dedue and he tenses up, but Sylvain’s there to direct his hand to pet the horse’s face.

“Relax,” Sylvain soothes him.

“I don’t think he’s relaxing,” Dedue stands still as a statue, rigid and awkward as he tries to minimize his movements as much as possible.

“I’m talking to you,” Sylvain clarifies. His hand remains eclipses over Dedue’s, faint freckles guiding his touch, petting alongside Jerimiah’s face before stroking his long, elegant neck. He’s… soft. With every stroke the horse seems to calm down even more so, and Dedue’s surprised to feel himself doing the same.

Up close and without the fear of death, Dedue can see that he really is a pretty boy. His fur is a dark clay brown that glistens in the light of their lantern. His mane is near black, and curious, Dedue reaches to touch, but stops at the last second, hovering above.

“May I?” He asks unsure.

“Are you asking for my permission or Jerimiah’s?” Sylvain teases him.

Dedue huffs and doesn’t respond. With hesitant motions he curls his fingers into the thick mane, his eyes wide with delight as Sylvain looks on amused.

“See? He likes you,” Sylvain says in a low voice, as if speaking up would risk startling both Dedue and the horse and break whatever trance that had come over the two that allowed this brief truce.

“Hmm,” Dedue isn’t sure if he agrees, but it’s fine. He busies himself with petting Jerimiah instead. Still unsure, still nervous. He brushes through his mane. He remembers the spot from earlier he saw Sylvain scratch and tries it for himself, scratching at the base of his neck.

“That’s his withers,” Sylvain cheerfully informs him.

“Ah, of course it is,” Dedue has no idea what he’s talking about, but it seems to make Jerimiah happy.

He becomes engrossed in it, patting at the fur and studying the horse’s movements, so much so that it takes a bit for him to notice Sylvain staring.

“Am I doing this wrong?” Dedue asks self-conscious.

“Huh?” He sounds like he had been snapped out of some sort of daze, a faint rose complexion creeping up his neck, as he goes back to petting Jerimiah’s head. “You’re doing fine,” he assures him.

“Alright,” Dedue frowns. “You’ll correct me if I am though?”

“You’re doing fine,” Sylvain repeats himself with a cluck of his tongue. “I was just thinking about how, you know, you look nice with your hair down,” he tells him.

A burn spreads across Dedue’s face, and he ducks his head down to avoid Sylvain’s gaze. “It’s nothing of note,” he mumbles in response.

“I think it is,” Sylvain tells him.

It’s quiet for a minute or two. Neither of them speaking or even looking in the other’s direction. Dedue fidgets slightly, Sylvain’s small compliment echoes in his head.

“Aren’t you a good boy, Jerimiah,” Sylvain praises the horse with a scratch behind his ear and disrupts the silence.

“Sylvain,” Dedue says, a confused frown marking his face. “When did the innkeeper have a chance to tell you Jerimiah’s name? Was I not paying attention?” He asks.

“Oh, I just made it up! It’s cute though, isn’t it?” He beams proud of himself, the same childish shine in his eyes from before, like a father presenting his horse child for others to admire.

It makes Dedue laugh, just a little. A soft chuckle, he shakes his head at Sylvain’s antics, fondness radiating off of him for his travel mate.

“What?” Sylvain whines while giving Dedue’s shoulder a light shove. “It’s a good name! It’s strong!”

“Yes, it is,” Dedue placates him. “Though I’m sure his real name is ‘strong’ as well.”

The remnants of a smile are faint at the corners of Dedue’s mouth, any discomfort or worry from before dissolved away as he makes conversation with a friend and their horse companion. Jerimiah, or whatever his true name is, knocks his head into Dedue and asks for his attention. Dedue is, of course, happy to oblige. 

**Author's Note:**

> You can follow my twitter [here](https://twitter.com/biheretic)!!


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